


Til the Sun Grows Cold and the Stars Grow Old

by randombitsofstars



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, F/M, Fluff, Gun Violence, Kalagang, POV Male Character, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-05-15 15:32:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5790919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randombitsofstars/pseuds/randombitsofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They come together like Newton's Laws of Motion - attracted together, equal and opposite, pulled by a force that they are powerless to ignore.<br/>And once they are tangled together, set into motion, there's no stopping them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Glance

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a slow burn, all told from Wolfgang's POV. I'm going episode by episode, chronically Wolfgang's character development and his romance with Kala.  
> Please leave comments, criticisms, etc. They fuel me to keep writing when I lose drive!  
> Visit me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/randombitsofstars) for all the Kalagang gifs! Be warned of spoilers, however.
> 
> *I do not take claim of this title; it’s from a favorite poem of mine. Bonus points if you know the author.

 

 

The first time Wolfgang saw her, he was supposed to be on a date. Or maybe it should have been classified as a one-time post-one night stand sort of thing. Probably the latter. Wolfgang felt nothing for this girl sitting across from him, but she had been in bed with him when he began craving Indian food. So here they were. Together.

Sure, the girl was pretty, kind, and embodied just the sort of stability that was absent from Wolfgang's life. But while Wolfgang might be missing stability, it wasn't exactly something he was actively chasing after either. Hell, he was planning on breaking into an unbreakable safe in the near future, and his main reason for doing so was to spite his cousin.  _Definitely not the profile of a rational, well-rounded adult,_ Wolfgang mused to himself.

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” Wolfgang stated, smiling apologetically while cutting off the flow of the girl's words. A glimmer of hurt passed through her eyes, realization of what Wolfgang said hitting her smack in the face. The girl's head lowered and her eyebrows rose incredulously, but she recovered remarkably quickly for one rejected so bluntly.

“Then what are you looking for?” The girl asked, going for casually sexy, but falling short into bitingly wounded.

And then, Wolfgang forgot all about this girl, this girl he felt no connection with. His head had turned instinctively to the side, feeling the blow of her question. But while he scrambled for an answer, Wolfgang felt his whole body suddenly freeze. He was enraptured. While grasping for a response, Wolfgang’s eyes had alighted on an astounding sight.

And he knew what he had been looking for.

**\---**  

She was wearing blue and purple. A dress shimmering with hundreds of gleaming jewels, cresting at her throat. A cape a shade lighter than indigo graced her soft neck. It fell enticing down her back, billowing gracefully behind her in time with her strides. The dress seemed to make her whole skin glow, giving this woman the impression of that of a goddess, ephemeral and ethereal.

Wolfgang had never felt so entranced by a simple woman.

It was so cliché, it really was. Their stares met and time seemed to stop. She was on a balcony, surrounded by bright flowers, and him by a simple rock wall, the peasant surveying the queen.

So when that wounded girl snapped Wolfgang back to reality by asking if “there was anyone else”, Wolfgang wasn’t exactly sure what his response should be.


	2. Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of shoes and songs.
> 
> (The second encounter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this next installment.  
> Thanks for leaving kudos, and please leave comments. They inspire me to write more!  
> Enjoy reading! <3

Courage. That’s what Abraham said. It took courage for his mother to survive the Holocaust. Wolfgang was not involved in anything as bleak, but he still needed courage all the same.

They had the diamonds. Wolfgang could barely believe it. Suddenly his life was picking up again, in more ways than one. There were so many factors to consider – Steiner, Abraham, the sudden influx of Abraham’s money.

Wolfgang didn’t have time to think of that woman on the balcony. He wouldn’t think of her, he told himself. He wouldn’t.

Then Felix makes his speech. Of new love, of lost virginity. Time for new shoes, he concludes. Wolfgang loves Felix, loves him more than any of his real family. He is Wolfgang’s brother. So they go get new shoes.

Wolfgang might love Felix, but he’ll only go to appease him so far. Wolfgang slips on shoe after shoe, entertained by Felix’s antics, and finally settles on a new pair of black boots.  “Those are so you, Wolfie,” Felix proclaims, laughing. “Maybe too you. You should try something…” Felix reaches toward a pair covered in dyed yellow alligator skin. “…a little different!” Felix spins around, holding the shoes aloft, turning them over in his hands.

Wolfgang utters a snort of derision, “I like my shoes,” he says, as he slips on his new black boots.

But something was wrong. “What the fuck?” Wolfgang swears, pulling off the boot and shaking it. “Eugh,” Wolfgang’s face wrinkles up, confused and disgusted, taking in the caked mud, both on his new shoes and his holey black socks.

“What?” Felix asks, partly in puzzlement and partly in concern, turning around.

Wolfgang started, staring at his socks. A second ago, he had felt warm slimy mud sliding between his toes. Wolfgang had warm air hitting spots where the sock had inexplicably been worn. But now - now the sensations were replaced by utter normality. His boot was dry, his socks were repaired, his toes were dry, and there was no mud to be seen.

A bolt of terror shot through Wolfgang. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_  Wolfgang thought, feeling a rising tide of panic beginning to hit him in waves. _Am I cracking up? Hallucinating? Was that girl a figment of my imagination, the same as this mud? What the fuck? I can’t let Felix know._

Felix always somehow knew when Wolfgang wasn’t feeling quite right, and suggested they go out to the club to blow off some steam. Wolfgang readily accepted, probably a little faster than he normally would. He was ready for some familiarity. Felix shot him a bit of a look at his quick acceptance, but didn’t push the issue.

**\---**

Then Wolfgang was on stage, facing Felix and their friends, more than a little drunk.

The second the cool plastic of the microphone’s stand was in his hands, Wolfgang felt cold sweat break out across his face.

He was immediately transported to that dreadful choral recital, the female director’s insist prodding, “Wolfgang… Wolfgang…" His mind flashed to his father’s accusatory eyes and loud laughter.

 _Maybe I’ve gone insane,_ Wolfgang mused. _It was only a matter of time._

“Fuck you!” Wolfgang shouted, suddenly enraged at the memory. “FUCK YOU!” Felix’s fist pumping approval seemed far away, the cheers of the club goers faint and muddled.

Wolfgang felt like punching something. No – he was punching something. With gloves? He was angry at something. Someone else. But that doesn’t make sense, because he was also standing in the club in Berlin, stinking of alcohol and pain. A phone chimed. Was that his phone? His phone was with Felix, wasn’t it? Wolfgang felt his fury building to a crescendo. His phantom punches got faster, his legs kicking furiously, making contact with a punching bag that wasn’t there.

But the first bars of the song began, echoing throughout the club. “Ah, come on,” Wolfgang sputtered, rocking back. Not exactly the head-banging, tension releasing song he was hoping for.

“Ooh, I love this song!” One of the girl chimed from the audience, and Wolfgang felt some of the pent-up tension leave his shoulders. Calming emotions seem to flood Wolfgang’s body from all directions. The casual embrace of lovers, the elated drive home after a good day at work… Wolfgang suddenly didn’t feel quite so desolate. He swiped some sweat from his cheeks, a small smile pulling the skin around his mouth taut. If he was more inquisitive, Wolfgang would've realize this was not the feeling he usually got from alcohol. But at that moment, he really didn’t give a fuck. He pulled the microphone off the stand ready to sing.

“25 years and my life is still…” Wolfgang began the first verse, flat and still not giving a fuck. “… For a destination…” The calming feelings crashed over Wolfie like a cool shower, smothering the angry fire previously alight within him. “… For a revolutionnnnnn…” Wolfgang raised his fist in the air, giving into the music swirling around in his head. “I SAID HEY! WHAT’S GOING ON!” Wolfgang’s eyes locked with Felix’s elated ones, feeling invincible.

The next verse began. Wolfgang crooned into the microphone, feeling punch drunk and silly. He felt eyes on him, from on stage, and then from his left side. Slowly, slowly, he turned.

There she was. The woman from the balcony.

Wolfgang turned fully towards her, his eyebrows knitting closer as he took her in. She was wearing a temptingly skimpy silk tank top and tight yellow pants. He could hardly believe she was there. Wolfgang opted to ignore her clothing in favor of sliding up his scrutiny to meet her warm brown eyes. But the woman ducked under his intense gaze, biting her lip and smiling down innocently. Sensually she rocked toward him, swaying to the beat. Her lips formed the silly lyrics, and her teeth gleamed in a grin as she giggled. A hot breeze washed over Wolfgang, once again transporting him from his spot in Berlin.

Slowly, her gaze lifted to his, and Wolfgang felt as though he was falling into her eyes. In the back of his mind, Wolfgang knew he was probably standing like an idiot on stage. He, once again, didn’t care. Instead, he kept his stare firmly on the woman, and opened his mouth. Then he began to sing back to her.

“And so I wake in the morning and I step outside, and I take a deep breath, and I get real high and I –”, and suddenly Wolfgang was awash in red and orange, in a bedroom, “- scream from the top of my lungs-”, her beautiful arms were extended, lost in the heat of the moment, “- What’s going on!” She was beaming, looking as though their world, their moment, was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Wolfgang hadn’t felt this alive in, well, forever. He rocked back on his feet, taking in a big breath. They began the last verse in perfect tandem. “And I said hey, hey,” they were getting closer, Wolfgang began to move in – “Hey hey…”

 Wolfgang watched her wet lips form the words, “…I said hey…” Wolfgang smiled, completing with her, “What’s going on…” Eager to taste her beautiful lips, Wolfgang leaned in almost all the way, intimate, ready – and was torn abruptly out of the fantasy, thrown back on stage. He was in the club in Berlin.

Wolfgang finished the song a little shakily, feeling the desire and wonder that had coursed through him slowly ebbing away. Felix was so ecstatic that Wolfie had loosened up onstage that he didn’t notice Wolfgang’s hasty retreat back to their table. And when Wolfgang was ready to go home, Felix was still grinning dopily, hailing a cab to take them back.

Wolfgang lay in his bed on top of the sheets, fully clothed, the cracked ceiling spinning above him. He reeked of sweat and alcohol. But as his eyes slipped closed, Wolfgang caught a new, yet familiar scent - the smell fresh marigold and jasmine.


	3. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of threats and bonds.
> 
> (You know the scene I'm referring to in the title, don't lie to yourself)

Wolfgang was caught off guard when his uncle’s bodyguards ambushed him at work, his mind still preoccupied from the night before. Sergei’s men informed him that his uncle wanted to have a meeting. With Wolfgang. Now. Sergei was not one to be kept waiting. Wolfgang caught Felix in the back room, telling him to get out of the country if he wasn’t back by nightfall. He barely had time to hug Felix before he found himself being escorted to his uncle’s mansion, his car surrounded on all sides. Any good feelings left over from the night before quickly dissolved as Wolfgang walked up the long driveway. _I just hope I don’t have another bizarre episode while inside_ , Wolfgang thought nervously. He was not used to being out of control of his emotions, and he did not savor the sensation.

Wolfgang entered his uncle’s house as he always did – with a poker face, a gun, and the attitude that he might have to kill every single person in the room. Knowing this, Wolfgang projected a sense of ease, even as his gun was confiscated from his side.

This poker face was hard to keep the second the man at the table turned around. His uncle. In some ridiculous silk robe, that, like the rest of his possessions, screamed opulence. Wolfgang did not like his family, but he did not like Sergei in particular. In fact, on his ever-growing list of people Wolfgang wanted to kill, his uncle slid in at number two (only second to Steiner, of course).

 _I love my brother_ , his uncle had said, and still would say to this day. So much so, that when Wolfgang was being beaten, verbally abused, and generally neglected at home, his uncle turned a blind eye. When Wolfgang’s mother went missing, presumed dead, the supposed ignorance of his uncle got even worse. Out of pity for his grieving brother, no doubt. _Some way to grieve_ , Wolfgang thought sourly. _If I had a thousand chances, I would kill that bastard a thousand times over - in a heartbeat._

“I have a problem,” his uncle said with exaggerated sadness. “But the thing about my problems is that they tend to become other people’s problems.”

 _Threats already?_   Wolfgang resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They hadn’t even cracked open the vodka yet.

His uncle moved into the light, his face betraying nothing. “Sit down please,” he said, and Wolfgang became ever aware of the bodyguard at his back. Turning, Wolfgang walked to sit down at one of the sofas.

As soon as Wolfgang took a seat, his uncle casually lit his cigar, blowing skywards messy smoke rings. He smiled as he snapped the lighter shut, opening his mouth.

“There was a robbery a few days ago. Black market diamonds from Mumbai.” Wolfgang kept his face as still as possible, casting his eyes towards the ground. “Stolen from a safe the day before they were to be picked up by the buyer.” Wolfgang jerked his head sideways, accidentally making fleeting contact with his uncle’s eyes.

His uncle turned his head away, smiling bitterly. “I know this because my son had been casing this place for months. Pickups, deliveries, when the place was empty. Steiner is _furious_. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” Wolfgang’s uncle shook his head, emphasizing the anger. Wolfgang looked up again, searching his uncle’s face. “And there are few things as unpleasant for me as listening to my own son whine.”

Wolfgang knew that his uncle had the suspicion that Wolfgang was the one that cracked the safe. Wolfgang also knew that to admit success would mean every single diamond they stole would be confiscated, along with their lives in the bargain. They didn’t have all the diamonds anymore – and furthermore, Wolfgang was not into dying anytime soon. Especially at the hands of Steiner. So as long as there was even an infinitesimal bit of doubt in his uncle’s mind, even a sliver, Wolfgang was keeping his mouth firmly shut. And if that meant Wolfgang went crazy and saw hallucinations in the process, well, at least some of the hallucinations were beautiful women.

“The interesting part is,” his uncle continued with calculated puzzlement, leaning over the back of Wolfgang’s couch. “The safe was not drilled. No one bored through to look at the tumblers, poured liquid nitrogen, or acid inside. No no no no,” his uncle scoffed. He let out a laugh. “The safe was cracked.”

Wolfgang turned around, fixing his uncle with a disbelieving stare. His uncle raised his eyebrows, nodding. “Yeah. More interesting still is… the safe was an S&D. The same kind of safe that fucked your father.” Wolfgang curled in his lip, nodding thoughtfully and uttering a casual affirmative.

His uncle sat down, clearly not buying the act, his smoldering cigar resting just shy of burning Wolfgang’s arm. His uncle’s face had gone stone cold. _Not good_ , Wolfgang thought. _Not good at all._ Any hopes he had held about deceiving his uncle were quickly deteriorating.

“It would be an irony of Shakespearean proportions if his son fucked his own life cracking the safe his father failed to crack, wouldn’t it?”

The room’s temperature felt ten degrees colder.

Wolfgang met his uncle’s fierce stare, matching it. “I’m not as stupid as my father.”

Wolfgang broke off the staring match first, nonchalantly rocking forward onto his feet. He walked away from his uncle, keeping his back firmly turned.

“Wolfgang,” his uncle called, stopping Wolfgang in his tracks. “Your father made mistakes. Every man does. You should always remember who you are.”

Ice flowed through Wolfgang’s veins, an always present rage slowly floating to the surface. He turned, meeting his uncle’s gaze one last time. Wolfgang’s stare was cold. “I think about that every day,” Wolfgang intoned, and left, not once looking back.

**\---**

Like most days after visiting his uncle, Wolfgang felt off-kilter.

His mood fluctuated between paranoid, emotional, short-tempered, and – was that fearful? Although Wolfgang could be temperamental, he had never felt as mercurial as this. It was like he was sharing his brain with a whole city of people, and he didn’t like it.

Because of this, Felix’s usual antics at the bar annoyed him even more than was usual. Every patron could be a spy for Steiner, and Felix’s voice seemed to reach outrageous heights.

Wolfgang savagely grabbed the front of Felix’s shirt, aware of a male patron’s gaze on them. “Hey. Hey! _Shut the fuck up_!” Wolfgang leaned closer, his voice a deadly whisper. “Don’t ever use that word, understand? Sergei is not stupid, he is watching us.”

“Sergei doesn’t know shit,” Felix replied, looking unconcerned. “He was just fucking with you, trying to see if you knew anything.” Felix went on talking, but Wolfgang was barely listening, nervous energy thrumming through him.

“Just stick to the plan,” Wolfgang said, although with less fire. Felix continued talking, and Wolfgang couldn’t help but crack a smile at Felix’s eventual impersonation of Steiner. As Felix’s stream of chatter went on, the tension between the two dissolved. Wolfgang’s shoulders relaxed, momentarily appeased, and he became conscious of a new problem. “Gotta piss,” Wolfgang said, putting his beer down.

He hopped off the stool and strode to the toilets, feeling much better. Entering, Wolfgang strode to a stall, burping as he unbuttoned his pants.

_Who’s there?_

A woman’s voice spoke, sounding confused and slightly scared.

Wolfgang’s brow furrowed in confusion. _Why would there be a female in here? And why did her voice sound so familiar?_

“Is there a woman in here?” Wolfgang asked.

_What do you mean is there a woman in here? This is my bathroom._

Wolfgang’s features turned in an incredulous mask as he zipped up his pants. “Your bathroom? Lady, I think you might be even drunker than I am,” continued Wolfgang in German.

_I’m not drunk, though obviously you are! This is a private residence. You must have wandered upstairs from the restaurant._

Wolfgang could’ve sworn he’d met this woman before, every inflection striking a chord of déjà vu within him. He gripped the door to the adjacent stall excitedly. Swinging it open, Wolfgang revealed an empty area in front of him. “What are you talking about?” Wolfgang said, moving on to the third stall.

 _I know that voice_ , the woman said.

Wolfgang smiled, gripping the handle on the final stall. This chase had been the best part of his day so far, and he was ready to meet this illusive voice.

And – Wolfgang swung open the last stall, only to stare dumbfounded at the unoccupied space.

_You are the singing man in my dream._

Wolfgang felt a jolt of shock running through him. Exasperation flowed through his veins.  “ _I can’t see you!_ ” Wolfgang said, pacing to the other end of the bathroom, desperately searching.

“Wolfgang?” Felix asked, standing in the doorway. He looked absolutely puzzled, stunned. “What the hell kind of language was that?”

Wolfgang stared at him, nonplussed, until he replayed the last thirty seconds in his head. He had been pissing, heard the voice, checked the stalls, all speaking German… but then – that whole time - he had heard, and spoke something. Something wildly foreign. To an invisible foreigner.

Wolfgang’s mind echoed Felix. _What the hell?_

Wolfgang heard a knock behind him, and instinctively twisted around. Wait. He was in a bar’s bathroom. No one knocks on the wall.

As he turned back to Felix, Wolfgang realized he would have to take drastic measures in order to halt Felix’s suspicions.

“Felllliiiiiixxx. I had _soooo_ muchhh beer...” Wolfgang slurred, weaving his way over to lean on his friend’s side. Felix automatically wrapped his arm around Wolfgang’s shoulders, supporting him. “Letttt’s goo celebrateeeee,” Wolfgang garbled, halfheartedly nudging Felix back towards the bar.

Felix gave Wolfgang one of his lopsided grins, forgetting, at least for now, Wolfgang’s previous oddities. “ _Nein_ , Wolfie, I think you’re ready to go home. You’re drunk.”

Felix steered Wolfgang toward the entrance of the club, Wolfgang docilely complying.

All the while, thoughts raced through Wolfgang’s pounding head – _Why was he hallucinating? Who was that woman? Was he truly going insane?_

**\---**

The next morning, Wolfgang was up very early, even before the sun had risen. He didn’t have a hangover and he couldn’t sleep. Donning workout clothes, he headed over to his usual retreat. The past few days had been building and building something inside Wolfgang, something he just couldn’t put his finger on. He needed to clear his mind.

On the drive over, Wolfgang got glimpses of – something. The feeling of cool metal touching his skin, heavy cloth. He felt weighted down, suffocated, and hunched his shoulders involuntarily, his hands tightening onto the wheel, knuckles turning white.

Parking the car, Wolfgang unclenched his grip and headed inside. Undressing, he stuffed his clothes in the locker room, and headed into the public pool area. Wolfgang was a regular at this spa, but as he walked into the steamy room he felt a unparalleled feeling of scrutiny. As though everyone’s eyes were upon him. _This is getting ridiculous_ , Wolfgang thought, and dove into the pool.

The cool water ran in a soothing rhythm over Wolfgang’s nude body. He dove all the way to the bottom, the pressure thick against his ears. Still underwater, Wolfgang propelled himself with a leisurely breaststroke, muscles stretching and compressing. Slowly, slowly, Wolfgang swam upward, breaking the surface of the pool, legs sweeping outward. Once he reached the end of the pool, Wolfgang pushed himself off again, transferring to freestyle. Finally, Wolfgang felt his troubles around him dissolving, thoughts swirling away in a cloud of movement.

After completing another few laps, Wolfgang turned and spread out onto his back, head just bobbing above the surface of the water. He swam languidly, arms and legs fanning out. Wolfgang drifted, eyes closing, finding himself in another place. His sight was full of people and activity. Colors swirled around him, hues of oranges and yellows and every other tint. Sheer fabrics billowed around him, churning in a light breeze. His blue eyes fixed upon a fire, flames licking up erratically into the dark sky. Silk pressed against his skin, and the same pressure anchored his body to the ground. He was a ball and chain, with his body as the weight. Wolfgang felt slick sweat slipping through his hair, at odds with the water cooling his chest. His eyelashes felt heavy, coated, and his stomach – his stomach sent out hunger pangs to every inch of his body, screaming pitifully for nourishment.

And the emotions, the emotions running through his every vein – Wolfgang felt fathomless sadness, the flames echoing his emptiness inside. He was watching his future, burning into ashes before his very eyes. Wolfgang was not one to cry, but he felt tears pricking at the edges of his vision, hot water threatening to spill.

Instinctively, Wolfgang knew this wasn’t right, he was supposed to be calm, he was getting married, he was floating peacefully… _Getting married? Where the fuck had that come from?_

Wolfgang floated, barely aware of the people surrounding him, utterly focused on an event that seemed worlds away and yet right in front of him…

**\---**

_I take the first of seven steps with you, my husband to be…_

He heard her first, strong, yet tremulous.

He saw her second. Glittering, radiant, just like that first night, but now with a crimson fire. Her skin glowed under her crystalline veil, gold bracelets flashing on her forearms. Delicate mendhi painted her hands orange.

Casting his gaze upwards, Wolfgang became more concerned about her face. The despair he had felt earlier was expressed plainly within her features. Her brown eyes were holding back the tears that had pricked his eyes.

 Wolfgang had only experienced this helplessness once, when he had witnessed a car accident. He had been helpless to save the victim, helpless to prevent the wreckage. In that moment, Wolfgang knew he would do whatever he had to stop the ceremony. He didn’t care if it was only within his mind. _I cannot stand this torment any longer._

_…that we may cherish each other and promise that we will grow together… in mental and spiritual strength…_

Images flashed in rapid succession in Wolfgang’s mind, of pungent jasmine and bright marigold, of curling incense and thin prayer mats, of dark curls and clasped hands…

Then a man’s voice – confident, unwavering, “ _I take the fourth of the seven steps with you…”_

_I take the fifth of the seven steps with you, my husband to be… and promise love and obedience in all things…_

Wolfgang floundered at the word ‘obedience’, immediately flashing back to his father. A black shadow, towering menacingly over his frightened mother. A swirling pit started to build within Wolfgang’s stomach, a knot of gathering emotions. He _needed_ to stop this. Wolfgang floated onto his feet, anger building inside just as water poured off his body. He flashed a glare in the direction of the couple, willing them to halt in their ritual, to call off the madness.

Swimming towards the edge of the pool, Wolfgang’s countenance was devoid of the tranquility he had felt earlier. His mind and gaze were hardened steel, locked onto the scene in front of him.

 _“I take the sixth of the seven steps, with you, my wife to be…”_ The man opened his mouth again, much to Wolfgang’s fury. _“…with the promise of everlasting companionship.”_

Wolfgang saw another scene, of two tan men and a dark woman sharing a sofa, the glow of the TV illuminating their happiness.

_We shall share love. Share the same tastes…_

And then another instance, a woman with blue headphones sitting alone at the bar, a male companion quickly approaching, her eyes lifting to meet his gaze…

And Wolfgang’s mind’s eye snapped back to his mysterious woman, the one in red, her voice growing shakier by the moment. _Share the same food…_

A man with a beautiful smile lies on a dingy couch, gazing over to a woman in a colorful headdress stirring a pot, wearing an identical grin…

Then the man’s voice, one final time, _“The final vow, the final step, is yours, my love.”_

His mysterious woman began to walk, and he feels worn leather within his palm, a leash, grounding him to her plight.

_We shall be of one mind…_

Wolfgang saw clearly through her eyes. He saw the future laid out in front of them if she completed this vow. Unhappiness. Discontent.

Two people Wolfgang knew inexplicably to be her parents beamed expectantly from the audience. Wolfgang was stuck by the dichotomy she was living, of pleasing her parents - or pleasing herself.

Wolfgang rose, standing in the pool. Muscles working overtime, he parted the water in front of him. Slicking back his hair, Wolfgang began to climb the concrete steps.

“We shall observe these vows together,” the woman said, eyes downcast. Wolfgang looked down as though in slow motion: observing the red velvet beneath his dripping feet.

“Come now, as I take the last of seven steps with you and-” Their eyes met, cerulean steel clashing with liquid coffee. Her eyes drew down further, further.

Reaching the most intimate parts of him, her eyes widened, stunned, petrified. Slowly, she cast her sight back upward, rocking back in shock…

“What the fuck are you doing?” Wolfgang kept his penetrating stare locked with hers, voice laden with displeasure. “You’re not in love with him.”

She reeled back, her body going limp, falling, falling…

The last thing Wolfgang felt before he hit the pool tile was satisfaction. He had stopped the wedding.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is getting way more into Wolfgang's personal backstory than I thought it would.  
> I'm going to continue heading down this road (along with excessive Kalagang, of course), unless you express your displeasure in the comments.  
> Hope this chapter was worth the wait!  
> <3


	4. Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of the warm light of Dubai and the weak sun of Berlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! 
> 
> I'm continually surprised by how long it takes to integrate every piece of dialogue from the show. Although, I watched most of the Demons episode again, and I can't say I regret it. Especially that last scene ;)
> 
> I'm always looking to hear from readers!
> 
> <3

Wolfgang didn’t remember passing out. Yet here he was, lying on slick pool tiles, a group of shocked mostly nude people crowding around him.

Wolfgang took a few seconds on the floor to get his bearings, feeling slightly drowsy.

Lying on the moist ground, Wolfgang realized he felt better than he had in ages. His head was quiet of doubts and his body felt virile, alive. For once, Wolfgang felt as though he had accomplished something worthwhile – something good.

He couldn’t pretend anymore. This mysterious woman and the rest of the people in his head were _not_ figments of his imagination. They were too human, too alive, and they could see him like he could see them. It might have been insane, but Wolfgang had reconciled this with himself.   _I believe this people are real. I am not alone._

Coming back to the present, Wolfgang became conscious of his legs being elevated by a towel-clad man. An elderly woman had broken out from the crowd to gently stroke his damp hair. Wolfgang blinked, unused to and uncomfortable with the attention. Shifting, he opened his mouth to reassure everyone; _I’m fine, I’m fine, get off me, I don’t need help_ , but the words stuck in his throat. The rhythmic stroking of his hair reminded him of his mother. He felt like a little kid again, before everyone had stopped caring about him.

Finally getting out an, “I’m awake, I’m okay,” Wolfgang smiled at the older lady, easing himself up onto his hands. Most of the crowd had dispersed by this time, seeing he was conscious. Wolfgang was eager to leave before someone alerted the medical staff – he didn’t feel like dealing with their insistent advances at the moment.

The man with the towel, apparently in some sort of medical profession himself, quizzed Wolfgang on his past incidents and medical history. Wolfgang kept his answers short, tempted to shake off the steadying hand the man lent him as Wolfgang eased himself to his feet. With a last parting promise to hydrate and see someone if he felt dizzy again, Wolfgang slipped away into the locker room.

The drive back to his apartment passed in a blur, and Wolfgang went through the rest of his day in a relative haze. Now that he was open to the mental connection surrounding him, Wolfgang was conscious of an absence of the strange feeling that had lingered in his mind the past few days. As he went through his day, Wolfgang tried to figure out how to contact the woman, but felt nothing in return.

Eager to meet the woman again, Wolfgang left the locksmith shop as soon as he could - which wasn’t that soon, since some drunk tourist – _for the millionth time,_ Wolfgang thought, irritated -  had managed locked themselves out of their ancient rental car, with the keys inside. Usually Felix handled the field work for these types of things, but he was too busy managing their, ah, _other enterprises_ with Abraham. So Wolfgang was left to drive over and rescue the grateful caller, who tipped him extra. It didn’t matter, because Wolfgang got back to his flat late anyway, forgoing his customary beer to strip off his clothes, brush his teeth, and fall into bed. His last thoughts were of the woman at the wedding, and her expression as she took in his body. Wolfgang fell asleep with his face still holding the traces of a smirk.

**\---**

He awoke to the sound of shuffling and the feeling of cool air breezing over the expanse of his back.

Blurrily, Wolfgang could make out a white and blue shape moving near his wardrobe. His eyes focusing, Wolfgang saw the back of the woman as she creaked open one of the doors. Well, really, he saw her butt. _Definitely something to see_ , Wolfgang thought with a smile, shifting. He stretched, watching her take one of his blue boxers in hand, dropping it almost disgustedly to the ground. Rising up even further, Wolfgang’s senses were flooded with light as he lay in a different bed, a different room.

Stretching, he looked around, confused. Deciding to not look a gift horse in the mouth, Wolfgang settled onto his forearm, content to watch the scene play out. Transported back in his own bed, Wolfgang watched her movements on his right. “Hello again.” Wolfgang finally spoke, startling her.

“Oh no,” She said quietly, beginning to turn. “No, _no_.” Her eyes locked with his, filled with trepidation. Wolfgang rolled over further, lust evident in his gaze. _It’s not my fault I have a situation going on down below. It is morning, after all._

She continued her chant of ‘no’s, jogging over quickly to lock the bedroom door.

Wolfgang looked at her as she turned around; taking in her wild curls and her long, supple legs. Every movement made her more endearing to him. Wolfgang could feel an involuntary smiling pulling at his lips, the first genuine one to appear in a while.

“You,” she said, pushing off from the yellow door, “have already ruined my life.”

“I didn’t ruin anything,” Wolfgang said with a shake of his head, smug. “You didn’t want to marry that guy,” he continued, looking down at the bed with a tone of rebuff in his voice.

“That is not for _you_ to say.” She said, affronted, crossing her arms under her breasts. She shook her head.

Wolfgang watched the bounce of her curls, raising his brows. “Maybe not, but _you_ wanted me to say it,” Wolfgang shot back.

“You don’t know what I want,” she stated, her posture defensive.

“Don’t I?” Wolfgang smirked. He patted the sheets next to him invitingly, and the woman unconsciously rocked forward. She stopped herself suddenly, an incredulous smile spreading across her face.

“No,” she said again, raising a reproachful finger.

“Okay,” she began, turning in her white pyjamas. “I don’t know what is going on here,” she said, pacing around the room, Wolfgang’s gaze followed resolutely after. “If – if I am totally losing my mind.” The woman paced past the bed, glancing at him, with Wolfgang watching back. She slapped her legs lightly in exasperation. “Or – or if one of the gods or goddesses is angry with me and has sent a _demon_.” Wolfgang couldn’t contain his smile, a muscle ticking in his jaw, barely holding back his laughter. She glanced down at him before continuing her spiel. “A dangerous pervert demon who never seems to have any clothes on.” She finished, unable to hold back her own sheepish grin. It was clear even to her that she was reaching.

Wolfgang chuckled, beaming at her. His eyebrow rose, and he gestured expansively with his hand. “Germans are not so uptight about nudity.” Wolfgang found this whole exchange hilariously innocent, and he couldn’t help but keep a smile on his face. _I haven’t had this much fun in a long time._

She whipped around, impassioned. “No, this is not about nudity, okay?” _Oh no, the waving finger’s back_ , Wolfgang noted. “This is – this is about decency. It is about,” here she paused, trying to convey her point to him, “ _privacy_.”

Wolfgang leaned back, his eyes half shuttered. He knew she was caught. “If you were so concerned with privacy,” he intoned, “and decency, why did you look?”

She paused in her response, her gaze trailing down Wolfgang’s body. “I did not.” She asserted, her left eyebrow and curly hair moving in tandem.

Wolfgang smiled knowingly up at her. “Yes you did.” Wolfgang nodded to himself, a confirmation. “You looked then and you’re looking now.” Wolfgang raised his eyebrows suggestively, his gaze flickering down to his hard dick. The woman averted her eyes, staring purposefully at the far wall.

She sighs. “I’m not.” She insisted again, although this time it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself.

“Listen,” Wolfgang purred, easing himself up. “I don’t know what’s happening to us either but I do know that from the moment I saw you,” – his mind flashed back to that night, her ethereal form – “I wanted you.” The woman’s eyes were wide, her stare entranced. “And somehow, I feel that you want me too.” Wolfgang’s voice dropped a few syllables lower on his last few words, his tenor deepening with desire.

She jerked back, her reaction the opposite of what Wolfgang was going for. “Oh, my god.” Wolfgang leaned forward even more, the sheet spilling lower, lower – “You are a demon.” With that, Wolfgang blinked, and he was back, alone in his apartment in Berlin. His grey sheets were doing nothing to ward off the mounting chill, the warm light that had suffused his skin mere seconds ago absent.

**\---**

Sensations flowed through him. Feminine hands, masculine caresses, bodies and muscles and sweat. The water lapped around Wolfgang, his cock impossibly hard, his senses impossibly sharp… and he was standing, surrounded by bodies, joining in, kissing passionately, touching stubble, breasts, smooth skin. He was loose, free, released…

Sitting in the hot tub alone.

_But maybe not so alone, anymore._


	5. A Kind of Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of the rain and the heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up in the sky, I see the thick clouds gather,  
> Sharing a secret, laughing together  
> There was stillness in the air  
> A pin drop silence everywhere  
> As if she were breathing on my face,  
> Finding my arms the right place,  
> The jinx of silence broken by the thunder,  
> Forcing my loneliness & melancholy to surrender,  
> Drenched I was, with my love clasped tight in my arms,  
> Pouring out all her happiness & charms,  
> She entered my life to kill loneliness & pain,  
> She was none other than the  
> Beautiful Rain
> 
> \- excerpt from "My First Love" by Shaan

Wolfgang never had time for religion. It did not seem logical, did not seem rational, and it did not help him survive his father’s abuse.

He could never understand it either. Wolfgang had experienced so much brutality throughout his life. How could he feel comfortable with a divine being that condoned it all?

So when Wolfgang found himself leaning against an ancient stone column, smelling a particular combination of incense and piety, he watched the woman with pity and bafflement. “Gods don’t give a shit about us,” he told her. She paused in her worship, frozen.

And then there they were, together. Back in Berlin.

“I speak from experience.” She slumped her shoulders at his words. Turning to him, a reproach shone in her deep brown eyes.

“Why won’t you just leave me alone?” She pleaded.

Wolfgang threw his arms up in exasperation. “I tried!” He insisted. “Believe me, I try not to think of you – but every time, it brings me straight to you.” Another rumble of thunder echoes across the sky, and they looked at each other for a few seconds, light and dark, devout and cynical.

Wolfgang shifted in the cafe’s chair. The woman was barefoot, Wolfgang noticed. “At least…” she began, a note of capitulation in her tone,“… you’re wearing clothes.” Wolfgang laughed, surprised, glancing down at himself. Whenever he saw her, he felt lighter, happy. Even Felix had trouble inspiring that particular emotion in him. He smiled back at her, and she laughed, shooting a hint of a grin back at him.

Wolfgang reached down, patting the seat next to him imploringly. For a second, he was transported back to patting the sheets on her bed.

But, unlike the last invitation, she accepted the request, slowly walking over to slide onto the adjacent cafe chair. Wolfgang, entranced, watched her settle down, unable to school his features out of the smile that spanned his face. He blinked, drops of water weighing heavily on his eyelashes.

And there they were, together. On a white ledge in Mumbai.

The sudden warmth spread over Wolfgang like an enveloping cloud, and he sighed. He squinted as the bright sun angling across his face, and gazed at the surrounding scenery – the whites and creams of the buildings and the orange of the flowers, scattered around them both like lilies on water. “It’s nice here,” he stated simply. He looked up, feeling the heat of the sun. “The weather’s shit in Berlin.”

She blinks at him, and they’re back in the deluge. Her smile was bright, even in Berlin’s somber weather. “It rains like this in Bombay – but it’s not so cold!” She exclaimed, rubbing her arms in a futile attempt to create friction. Without thinking, Wolfgang reached out, meaning to warm her, cupping her arm and the small of her back in a comforting motion. Her eyes met his, distinctly fragile and hurt in the shadowed light. Wolfgang slowly pulled away, regretful. She settled her arms in front of her, closing herself in, pushing him out.

“So tell me,” Wolfgang said, unwilling to let her clam up. “Has he ever helped?”

“What?”

“Your God.”

“Oh. Of course,” the woman confirmed, straightening proudly.

“How?” She looked at him, incredulous.

“I asked him to stop my wedding. And he did.” Wolfgang studied her face a few moments.

“You think he stopped your wedding?” He asked.

Her dark eyebrows drew together, her gaze just as intent on his face as his was on hers. “Do you have a better explanation?”

Wolfgang tilted his head a little. “So you think our connection… is a kind of miracle?” She looked at him a few moments more, and turned her head, staring at something off in the distance.

“If I were trying to describe this feeling,” she said, her voice low and strangely intimate. “The sensation of experiencing the warmth of the sun, the smell of jasmine and marigold… while at the same time being soaked by a downpour at an outdoor cafe…” The woman turned closer to Wolfgang, droplets of water running down her face, a bead trickling down her nose and stopping at the bridge of her lips. Wolfgang watched her as she bit the rain-covered flesh consideringly, and he resisted the urge to lean closer. “The taste of strong coffee still in my mouth… I would say that the word ‘miracle’ is particularly appropriate. Wouldn’t you?”

Wolfgang couldn’t stop the expression of awe that spread over his face.

That’s when he knew. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t stop thinking of her - it’s that he wouldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is on the shorter side of things. I can't seem to stay away from Kalagang, yet I have so much on my plate right now!
> 
> Just a little notification that I made some minor edits to Chapter 1. Some of the phrasings didn't sit well with me after rereading, so I changed them. Nothing too major, just some descriptions and so on.
> 
> Comments and kudos are very much appreciated.


	6. India

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of miracles and gravity.

“I was always afraid as a child,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep if the light was off or if it was too quiet.”

Wolfgang watched her talk, observed her. With anyone else he would have felt a pang of envy at her words – after all, his childhood was dominated with fear as well, a different strain of it. One interwoven with dodged glass bottles and seven-on-one fights and rich cousins that always seemed to get what they wanted. With anyone else, Wolfgang wouldn’t have been able to listen. But she was so sincere, so joyful in her nostalgia that Wolfgang found himself swept away in the tide of it, unable to take his eyes off her.

“I – I don’t like the quiet,” she went on. “I used to fall asleep in my father’s restaurant,” and she looks down, abashed, and Wolfgang feels an overwhelming urge to encourage her, to _touch_ her – “I’ve always hated being alone.” Her voice cracks on the last phrase, and she looks out, away, remarking in a much softer tone, “It’s one of the reasons why I love the festival.”

Wolfgang feels something rising within him, rising within her, the beat of drums, music, the smell of paint, bodies, humanity. Flashes of a multi-limbed deity fly through Wolfgang’s mind, a swirl of colors disappearing as soon as it came. And Wolfgang is warm, young, small. He is traveling into somewhere – something?

_Ganesha._

Wolfgang is somewhere else. He sees beauty everywhere, in the joyous celebration of a rippling tide of people, in the paint-splattered children free to roam among high-spirited vendors, in the men stacking on top of each other to dance in a fashion he has never experienced. Wolfgang takes in the view, floats in this foreign parade. His young coffee eyes see everything, takes it all in, perched in a place so high and sacred no one can touch him. The mounting feeling builds to a crescendo deep in Wolfgang’s chest, the immense feeling of togetherness and belonging and _believing_ reverberating through him like the echo of a long-forgotten chord.

And Wolfgang is back, staring at the swirling dark tendrils of the woman who has brought it all to him, to them both.

She looks over at him, and their eyes meet once more, the brief flash of contact lending air to a spark Wolfgang is powerless to extinguish.

“It made me a believer.”

“But – you’re a scientist.” Wolfgang protests, the cynic within him crying out.

“I am.” A crease forms between his brow, and Wolfgang feels confusion pulling at the edges of his mind once more. His head shakes unconsciously, and Wolfgang can still feel his eyebrows drawing together as she says, “My love for science doesn’t preclude my faith. For me, science is another language we use to talk about the same miracles that faith talks about.” She exhales, and Wolfgang is glued to the sight of her beautiful mouth, to the words that don’t seem to equate to Wolfgang what they seem to equate for her.

“But…” Wolfgang shifts his eyes away, conviction swelling within him. “… one language makes sense, the other doesn’t.”

She fixes him with a searching gaze, and suddenly she smiles, a gentle smile, as though Wolfgang had just asked her the easiest question in the world. “Sense? Like quantum physics? Like a particle that can be here and not here?” And Wolfgang finds himself staring once more, ensnared without a hope, without a want of extracting himself. “Or sense like gravity?” The woman goes on, and Wolfgang leans infinitesimally closer, her eyes flickering down to skim over the surface of his lips. Wolfgang feels the scrutiny like a phantom kiss, his lips tingling with the sensation of touch. “A force that no one knows why exists.” Wolfgang’s lips are parted, the Mumbai breeze washing over him like a warm blessing. “Only that if it didn’t exist…” and the woman moves imperceptibly, closer, closer… “If there wasn’t this mysterious attraction… this pull between objects…” The space between them has coalesced into an intimate breadth, an atmosphere of shared exhales and the lingering presence of parted lips. “… then none of this would exist either.”

“Thank God for gravity.”

“Exactly.”

And Wolfgang feels the brush of her skin on his own skin, the gentle line of her jaw skimming the coarse stubble gracing his own jaw –

"Hey Wolfie. Where the fuck are you?” Felix’s words hit Wolfgang like a slap, sudden and hard, and he is left reeling to take in the impact of the unexpected blow.

“What?” Wolfgang is dazed, leftover rain dripping over the bridge of his nose. His eyes are loathe to focus, so desperate to catch another glimpse of the world they were torn from. Felix’s hand is on his shoulder, and the body language isn’t encouraging.

“I heard from Abraham.”

“And?” Wolfgang’s gaze finally snaps back together, just in time to see the look of elation spreading over Felix’s face.

“He’ll take the rest of the diamonds!” Felix’s hands are crushing Wolfgang’s cheekbones, cupping his face in a bruising grip. Wolfgang is laughing, amazed.

“When?”

Felix’s exuberant demeanor floods the air around them. “I don’t know, but we’re going to be fucking rich!” Felix stops in his excitement, seemingly unhappy with Wolfgang’s less-than-ecstatic response. “Hey!” He exclaims. “This is great fucking news!”

“It is.”

“So why do you look like someone took a piss in your beer?” Felix’s initial ecstasy is finally wearing off, and he plops into a chair next to Wolfgang, puzzled and irritated.

Wolfgang pauses for a moment, considering. “I’ve been thinking I want to get out of Berlin for a little while.” Felix makes a sound and Wolfgang rushes on, before his nerve was lost – “I need to take a trip.”

“Where?” Felix is subdued, supportive, and the abrupt change in demeanor reminds Wolfgang there’s a reason he trusts Felix with his life, with his secrets. Wolfgang pauses a moment, air rushing out between his lips. 

“India.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm been impressed with the huge response I've gotten to many of the pictures I've posted on Kalagang, specifically on Season 2 stills.  
> A reminder that my Tumblr is randombitsofstars, the same as my username here. I'm always looking for asks and prompts and so on. Come chat!  
> I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Comments and kudos are very much appreciated.  
> Until next time!  
> <3


	7. Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of broken glass and broken souls.

When Felix called Wolfgang, there was none of the usual humor evident in his tone. He sounded serious, scared, and it chilled Wolfgang to the bone.

“Be right over,” Wolfgang replied, and proceeded to break every speed limit in his path to get back to his brother.

**\---**

Wolfgang felt everything.

Adrenaline rushed through him in waves, giving him some sort of ultra-sensitive high to his surroundings.

He rapped on the door to the locksmith’s shop, barely remembering to lock his car.

“Come, come, come,” Felix whispered hurriedly, ushering him inside.

“What’s wrong?”

Felix didn’t reply, opting to swiftly and wordlessly walk to the back of the shop. Wolfgang followed, irate and nervous.

“Hey,” Wolfgang demanded, his pulse ratcheting up to even higher heights. “What happened?” A dozen scenarios flashed through his mind, and he scanned Felix worriedly, searching for an injury.

“I don’t know what happened,” Felix hissed back to Wolfgang. “Nothing happened.” He turned, lines of stress plainly evident in his pale face. “It’s the nothing that has me worried.”

“You went to see Abraham?”

“I did. Or at least I tried to.” Felix began stuffing random objects in his black bag, his hands shaking, clumsy. “We had a date.”

“He didn’t show?”

“No. So I called. Nothing.” At Felix’s answer, Wolfgang shook his head, beginning to pace along the shop’s dark floors. “Went by his shop,” Felix continued. “Closed up. Gone.” A growl had entered Felix’s tone, his frustration breaking through his tight mask of anxiety. “Fuck!” Felix kicked a metal screwdriver across the floor, the sound shattering the stillness of the shop.

Felix looked up at Wolfgang, his eyes shining with some sort of quiet desperation. “I’m thinking about your passage to India,” the man said, slightly breathless. “Maybe you need a Sherpa or something?”

Wolfgang just shook his head in response, pausing in his pacing to stare at the wall. _Maybe we could_ – a frantic knocking interrupted Wolfgang’s thoughts, loud and insistent at the front door. Wolfgang snapped his head up towards the noise.

 Hello?!” A frantic voice called out.

“We’re closed!” Felix yelled, waving his arms around in short, angry motions.

“Please!” The woman pleaded, her face a twisted mask of pain. “Please, can you help me?”

Felix angrily strode towards the door, shaking his head. “Oh, what would all the damsels in distress do if I left the city, huh?”

Then Wolfgang hears a _bang_ , a cataclysm of glass, the impact of a body on hard, hard wood –

And Wolfgang shields himself out of instinct, his arms wrapped around his face, his body instinctively curving away from the blast, away from the disaster –

And he turns his head back and Felix is on the ground, a spray of blood splattered across the floor - Felix is lying motionless, _motionless_ , so still, hands curving towards his face like a final prayer –

And Wolfgang’s tortured gaze flies towards the door, towards the source of this fucking _disaster_ –

His feet are already in motion, he is stumbling, clumsy, tumbling towards the door, towards the enemy, _towards his brother_ –

Steiner is outside in a black van, the door is open, his face an explosive mask of anger and hate, and he is reloading the shotgun –

But Wolfgang doesn’t care, _doesn’t give a fuck_ , because Felix is on the ground, still - so _so still_ –

And he holds a rag over Felix’s cold body, pressing desperately hard. His hand is drenched in blood - _so much blood_ \- but it’s not his own, and he watches the van drive away, helpless, an indescribable agony crashing over him like riptide, pulling him under, under –

And suddenly –

Wolfgang felt nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments, criticisms, and kudos are greatly appreciated.  
> <3


	8. Felix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of blood and choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you check the tags. This one is rough.
> 
> Happy Reading. <3

Wolfgang held himself taut in the hospital chair, every muscle tense, like a guitar string poised to snap. Grief and pain rolled over him in heavy waves, threatening to consume him, engulf him in their suffocatingly dark grasp.

Fighting the undertow, Wolfgang stared at his hands.

But he didn’t see them.

His sight was stuck, a broken film reel playing over and over.

 _“Please, can you help me?” The woman pleads, her face a perfect balance of terror and seduction._ Wolfgang could see it now, the manipulation in her body language, in her every movement. But it didn’t matter - _because the glass of the door is fracturing over and over, an endless high pitched shattering. The bullet is destroying the pane, too fast for the eye to see - Wolfgang can see Felix’s body flying back, sprawling dangerously, a collision of lifeless bones on splintering wood._

_And a red puddle stains the floor, it stains Felix’s body, it runs over the cloth Wolfgang is frantically pressing into the wound, staining his hands, running over…_

And Wolfgang stared at his hands.

They were cold and white and clean.

But Wolfgang could feel them.  They were warm and scarlet and viscous. The skin was hot, and the blood was running over the skin, coating it.

 _There’s blood on my hands_ , Wolfgang thought. 

Wolfgang looked up at Felix’s features, his eyes tracing the tube pushed down his throat. _He's alive. Barely. I need to snap out of it. I need to protect him._

And then Wolfgang paused.

Before, Wolfgang could only hear the ventilator, the steady beep of the heart rate monitor. But now… _was that laughter?_ Wolfgang’s eyebrows came together, his lips pursed in confusion. _I swear I heard a crowd of people right beside me…_ Wolfgang froze, unsure exactly of what he was bracing himself against.

And then he is sitting somewhere yellow, somewhere significantly warmer than the stark environment of Felix’s hospital room.

After being immobile at Felix’s bedside for over ten hours,  it took a second for Wolfgang to regain his bearings.

But, slowly, slowly, Wolfgang looked up, his body instinctively turning to face the sound of _… sobbing?_ His eyes met the cool reflection of a mirror - and then - his eyes locked with her.

“My God,” the woman whispered. Her eyes were shiny, puffy. Wolfgang’s reflection didn’t look much better. He was pale and drawn, an empty sort of sadness marking the lines of his face. Their gazes stayed linked a moment more, and -

“What happened to him?”

Wolfgang stared at the woman for an indeterminable amount of time, a lump suddenly constricting his throat, his voice. He looked down, unable to bear the full force of her compassionate stare. A sigh ran through Wolfgang.

Shifting slightly, he finally let himself unfreeze, just a little.

Wolfgang felt hours worth of stress collapse on top of him, an unsteady spire threatening to topple. A ripple of agony flowed over him, scorching and oppressive. As though unwittingly drawn in by his pain, Wolfgang felt the woman appear next to him, her face centimeters away from his own.

“It was… my fault.” Wolfgang refused to look at the woman, unable to handle her seeing the truth of the statement in his eyes. He continued to look past the woman, to Felix’s body, the beeping of the monitors torturing him with every pulse. “I wanted to prove something,” he said, his voice too loud in the silent room. “I wanted to change something that can't be changed.”

“What?” She asked Wolfgang softly, her voice so caring, so ready to _understand_.

Wolfgang was finally able to look at her, and he almost regretted it, the way he could see her goodness radiating through every pore of her very being -

“The past.” He said, and he knew.

_She was too good for him._

**\---**

But Wolfgang was selfish. He was alone, afraid, and tired. He needed a friend. _Just for a moment_ , he told himself. _A moment._

So he continued to talk with her.

“You’ve known him a long time,” she said, her sentence a statement instead of a question. Her slim hand felt warm on his back, comforting. Wolfgang nodded, his gaze flickering down. Her hand rubbed in slow circles, a steady pressure through his jacket. “How did you meet?”

Wolfgang looked up, remembering. He couldn’t help but smile internally when he realized where the answer lie. “Detention,” he told her.

**\---**

“Welcome to my office, newbie. Have a seat.” It was then Wolfgang first saw the smirk he grew to love. It fit Felix even then, self-assured and wry, as though the boy was in on an inside joke only known to him.

Young Wolfgang slowly walked toward Felix and his collection, his eyes skimming over the various cases and cigarette packs. “Have a seat,” Felix continued, his smile firmly fixed on his face. Wolfgang slid into the chair across from the youth, his bag coming to rest next to his feet. Wolfgang warily settled in, ready for some type of twisted test, or, as per usual, a fight.

He was not ready for the hand proffered in front of him. Nor for the welcoming voice in which the other boy said, “I’m Felix.” After a moment of hesitation, Wolfgang met the open gesture with a hand of his own.

“Wolfgang.”

Felix giggled, unable to keep his composure. “Wolfgang?” He laughed. Wolfgang’s face went flat, ready for insult. “Nobody’s named Wolfgang.”

Wolfgang felt his mouth twist a little at that, unsurprised at the proclamation. Felix took in the motion, and nodded to himself, his eyes still alight with mischief and good humor. “Ok… Wolfie. What are you in for?”

“Fighting.”

“Cool.” Felix mused, nodding once more.

Something untwisted a bit in Wolfgang’s heart at that moment, making room for something else.

Someone else. _“I’m Felix.”_

_**\---** _

“Where are you?” Wolfgang deflected. Although Wolfgang hadn’t spoken, he knew somehow that she had seen it too. But that wasn’t the problem. Unburying the memory had caused too many feelings to well up within him, too fast. Wolfgang needed to concentrate on something else.

“At the movies,” the woman answered, sighing. Previously, her expression was one of wistful pleasure but now the air around her radiated unhappiness. “With my family.” She went on.

“Makes sense,” Wolfgang said, nodding. His mouth quirked up a bit, a muscle ticing in his jaw.

“Why?”

Wolfgang shook his head a moment. He licked his lips, unable to answer. “Felix loved the movies,” he replied quietly, unconsciously using the past tense. “We cut school to watch films all the time.” Wolfgang lips moved unwittingly, the closest he had gotten to a smile in a long time.

**\---**

_“No one will remember if we were good men or bad. All that matters is that two stood against many.”_ The quote echoed throughout Wolfgang’s head like a mantra, pulling him back to a different memory.

He and Felix relaxed on a dirty sofa, backs against the rough unfinished wall of Wolfgang’s house. The cola felt warm in Wolfgang’s hands, the fizz bubbling pleasantly at the back of his parched throat. The feeling stood as a dichotomy to the twinging at Wolfgang’s chin, a reminder of his recent altercation with his father.

“This film’s a masterpiece,” Felix said to Wolfgang, snapping him out of his thoughts. Wolfgang nodded agreeably at the statement, his eyes glued to the screen in front of him.

 _“So grant me one request - grant me revenge! And if you do not listen, to hell with you!”_ As Conan finished his declaration, Wolfgang nodded along with the phrase. His scrape decided to give off a rather hard throb of protest. _Grant me revenge_ , Wolfgang thought. His father flashed through his mind, the sound of his closed fist hitting Wolfgang’s flesh.

_Revenge._

**\---**

“I don’t know why he liked me,” Wolfgang said, a fond grin tugging at his cheeks. It vanished quickly as he continued. “In those days, when we moved from East to West Berlin, I was the kid everyone hated.” Wolfgang let out a tense exhale. His stomach muscles tightened reflexively at the memories, ready for a fight.

**\---**

“Hey you! Commie!” The tallest of Wolfgang’s regular bullies, Kristian, stood up from his plastic chair. _Not again_ , Wolfgang thought, glancing at Felix. _Not in front of him._ “Your shitty country is ruining ours,” Kristian continued, his four friends falling into step beside him.

They approached Wolfgang and Felix, chests puffed out, fists curled. One of the smaller boys, _Marc_ , Wolfgang thinks, hissed, “Get the hell out! You don’t belong here!” The five antagonists are now close enough for Wolfgang to see the baby hairs on Kristian’s chin. Marc spat on Wolfgang’s shoes, and Wolfgang felt a bolt of fear run through him.

But not for himself.

“You better go,” Wolfgang said urgently to Felix, a strange sort of protectiveness running over him.

“No!”

“Go!” Wolfgang pushed the back of Felix’s jacket, thrusting the boy away from the circle of Kristian’s boys. The boys laughed as Felix ran away, but Wolfgang felt a strange sort of calm wash over him nonetheless. _Nothing could be worse than father,_  he told himself, facing the boys in front of him. _Nothing could be worse._ He stared up at Kristian’s hateful brown eyes, despising the way the circle slowly backed him closer to the wall.

“My dad says you’re costing us billions in taxes,” Kristian said, towering over Wolfgang. “You’re going to start paying us back… now.”

“Come and get it!” Wolfgang spat belligerently, and Kristian took ahold of his jacket, grabbing him. Then there were hands all over Wolfgang, on all parts of his body, jostling him, making him unsteady.

But Kristian’s hard push is the one that sent him to the ground. Wolfgang fell with a grunt, and then there were bodies all over him, fists and limbs connecting with his body from all directions. Wolfgang tried to guard himself with his hands, and somewhat succeeded, until the hard point of a boot crashed into his ribs, knocking the breath out of him in a painful whoosh. Kristian’s foot came down on Wolfgang’s side again, and Wolfgang thought _not worse than father, not worse than father…_ He’s not sure who he was trying to convince anymore.

Kristian’s fist is unrelenting as it collided with Wolfgang’s face, and Wolfgang can’t help but let out a gasp. He saw stars as Kristian hit him a second time, his jaw cracking with an unhealthy pop.

But suddenly there’s another noise, another harsh crack, one that Wolfgang couldn’t feel. For a split second he thought he might be paralyzed, until he saw light brown hair, and the familiar black jacket. _Mein Gott._

“Uhng!” Felix shouted as he swung the metal pipe, and Wolfgang seized his chance, his fist contacting with someone’s face. There’s the sound of feet on the cement, of running, and then - “No one will remember if we were good men or bad!” Felix’s shouting rang out loud through the air, and more boys scrambled up from the ground.

“You’re dead!” Kristian sputtered, hastily rising to feet. He ran off, and the last boy followed him in a clattering of sneakers.

Wolfgang stood next to Felix, feeling the blood from his nose drying quickly in the cool air. Felix leaned conspiratorially toward him, saying, “Only that two stood against many.” Wolfgang panted in the silence, smiling through the metallic blood that coated his tongue.

**\---**

“That was your childhood?” The woman asked, sounding incredulous and horrified.

“No,” Wolfgang replied, his voice soft in the quiet of the hospital room. “That was nothing… compared to my father.”

**\---**

Silverware and peanut shells clattered as his father pounded the table once more, cracking another nut. Wolfgang’s father’s face was unnaturally red, sweaty, the byproduct of too much alcohol in too little time. “Life is simple, boys,” he growled, stuffing a nut between his yellowed teeth. The cross tattoo flashed on his finger, a permanent reminder of the man’s ties to the Bratva. He chewed on the peanut, taking a swig of his near-finished bottle of beer. “Life is just five things,” the man said hoarsely, holding up his thick, calloused fingers. Felix’s eyes were wide as he followed the man’s movements, his body scooted as far back into the chair as possible. “Eating, drinking, shitting, fucking… and fighting for more.” Felix cringed back even farther as the man’s fingers stabbed the air near his face. Wolfgang made the mistake of making brief eye contact with the man, and his gnarled fist barreled into Wolfgang’s collarbone before the boy could react, knocking him off his chair in a rush.

Wolfgang saw stars as he groaned softly from the ground. His bones felt pulverized under his clasped hands, a reflex against the pain thrumming through him. He struggled to regain his breath as his father began to rise from his seat, soft sobs escaping from his wheezing airway.

“I didn’t say anything about crying,” his father said darkly, grounding his teeth. “Crying is for bitches.” Wolfgang could feel hot water pooling in the recesses of eye sockets, his nose and throat filling with thick mucus.

His father ambled up from his chair, rocking menacingly towards Wolfgang. “That what you are?” He spat. His face flushed entirely scarlet. “A little bitch?” Wolfgang’s eyes closed as the tears continued to flow, his mind already going blank in preparation for the agony awaiting him.

The sharp sound of a bottle shattering had Wolfgang flinching intuitively, his eyelashes blinking away shards of glass. Wolfgang’s face in screwed up in distress, his chest throbbing with a deep-seated ache. “Conan, what is best in life?” Felix’s voice sounded far away, above Wolfgang, urgent and fierce.

**\---**

“He’s crazy,” she stated with a bittersweet laugh, and Wolfgang just smiled.

**\---**

Felix hauled Wolfgang up from the floor, holding him until he’s steady.

“To crush your enemies, to see them driven before you!” Wolfgang yelled, his head snapping towards his father, who lay on the floor in a daze.

Wolfgang and Felix ran out together.

Felix held Wolfgang’s arm the whole time, and Wolfgang clenched back, just as hard.

**\---**

The woman’s eyes were alight with tears, but she was smiling through it all, her sight flickering towards the hospital bed. “He would do anything for you.”

Wolfgang sighed, reaching out. “He’s my brother,” he said, his hand gripping Felix’s wrist. It was a mirrored motion of the past escape, of their fleeing from his house. Wolfgang looked toward Felix’s face, cataloging the various scrapes and cuts. “And not by something as accidental as blood… by something much stronger.”

“What?” The woman asked, her voice gentle in its innocence.

  
“By choice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Bratva - Russian Mob  
> Bogdanow is Russian, so are Steiner's tattoos. Coming from someone who can read and write Russian, many signs of Wolfgang's family, namely coming from East Berlin, paint them as being part of the Russian culture. My headcanon being the Russian mob. It would explain a lot...
> 
> *Mein Gott - "My God"
> 
> Poor Wolfgang.
> 
> When I first watched the series, Felix's character rubbed me the wrong way. I don't know what it was at the time, I couldn't really explain it. But writing this and rewatching the series, has made me realize how much we have to thank Felix for who Wolfgang is today. Alcoholism and abuse are two subjects very close to my life, and I know personally how many children don't have friends like Felix to back them up. If you ever need help, for anything, please message me on tumblr, randombitsofstars.
> 
> On a lighter note, better times ahead for Kalagang! Kinda. Feel free to leave kudos or a comment if you get a chance. <3


	9. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of allegiance and rancor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading!

“ _Was zur Hölle!_ ” Wolfgang cursed, throwing another bank statement onto the pile in front of him. No one liked sorting through the bills, but today they were especially vexing.

The numbers weren’t adding up, and Wolfgang kept forgetting what each organized stack meant in the first place. His head kept drifting off. Back to the steady beep of Felix’s heart monitor, back to the sterile environment of the hospital, back to the last bits of glass Wolfgang just couldn’t seem to scrap out from floor of the shop -

He couldn’t focus. And the voices weren’t helping either. They buzzed in his mind like flies, annoying and insistent.

“Everything is so much better now,” one declared, the tone fake, placating.

“Yes, so much better.” Another man’s voice chimed in, toneless yet agreeable.

 _What’s going on?_ Wolfgang paused as he unfolded another statement.

“We spoke to the astrologer, and he says the horoscope for the new wedding date is even better than the last one.”

The piece of paper slipped out of Wolfgang’s grasp, his brain finally catching on to the meaning of the conversation.

“The last one was not bad.” The second voice was cheerful, as though nothing was wrong, as though the last statement hadn’t just ripped Wolfgang’s heart out of his chest.

“No, no, no,” the first voice said, quick to reassure. “Not bad.”

“But this is better.”

“So much better. Clearly, the gods wanted it this way.”

“So, uh, you wish to use the temple of Ganesha?”

“Yes.” And suddenly she was there, sitting right in front of him. The woman looked intently towards the voices - all dark curls and bright earrings and dewy skin. Wolfgang could barely tear his eyes off of her -

Until she was gone.

“Fuck!” Wolfgang swore. He snatched the fallen piece of paper off the floor, his knuckles scraping against the untreated wood. He slammed the statement back onto the wood of the desk. _Stay out of it_ , he told himself.

**\---**

“Help! Help! Somebody! Help!” 

Fear, sharp and distinct raced through Wolfgang’s veins. Undistilled panic.

A drop of liquid splashed out of his mug.

Somewhere inside him, Wolfgang knew the panic was not generated from his own emotions. He didn’t care. She was in trouble.

He tried to reach out, tried to find the source of the terror. His mind grasped at the feelings around him, stretching for something out of view. But his eyes stayed stuck, his feet stayed still, and he couldn’t leave the quiet of his flat.

Wolfgang set his coffee mug down onto the counter. A singular drop broke free of the rim to run down the surface of the hot ceramic, pausing, suspended. _Like a teardrop_ , his brain supplied, erratically profound.

Wolfgang jerked his gaze away from the cup, frowning.

He knew the connection was fragile. Innately, he distrusted it. Avoided it. Widening the link was like molding mud in a rainstorm.

It was only a matter of time before it fell apart.

 _Ignore the connection_ , Wolfgang told himself. _It’s for the best._

**\---**

The hospital smelled as it always did, of antiseptic.

Wolfgang tried to block it out, tried to ignore the reminder of Felix’s condition.

He tried to watch the movie in front of them, Conan, and he tried to focus on the familiar cadence of the actor’s voice. He could quote each line aloud, one by one - but he didn’t, in hopes that somehow the sound would reach Felix, jolting him back to consciousness. 

The movie had just reached a good part when the door opened beside them. It was one of Sergei’s bodyguards, closely followed by the man himself, who was clad in a beige trench coat.

Wolfgang tore the earbuds from his ears, immediately snapping to attention.

“What are you doing here?” He demanded.

“You and this _dummkopf_ are like my own boys.” Wolfgang twitched. “We are family.” Sergei paused a moment. He strode closer to Felix’s bedside, opposite from where Wolfgang sat.

“How is he?” The older man asked.

“The doctor said he should be dead,” Wolfgang replied, his eyes never leaving his uncle’s face.

“Good man.” Sergei leaned forward, taking Felix’s hand into his own. Wolfgang leaned closer on instinct, his eyes glued to Sergei’s form. “Never listen to doctors,” Sergei whispered to Felix. “All they know is death. Life is a mystery to them.” Sergei scoffed, his gaze swinging over to meet Wolfgang’s eyes. “But we understand life, don’t we?” His uncle's expression was falsely earnest. _A trap._ Wolfgang opted to stay silent, his eyes flickering towards Felix’s limp hand, trapped in Sergei’s grip.

“Life is simple. Life’s just five things,” his uncle continued. Wolfgang snapped his head up, his fingers involuntarily clenching over his knee. “ - eating, drinking, shitting, fucking, and fighting for more, right?”

Wolfgang watched as his uncle’s fingers counted the phrase. He watched the man’s body thrust forward, his hand a fist, his body a challenge. Sergei laughed. “When we were boys, your father would say that to me, and then he would punch me as hard as he could.” Sergei shook his head in nostalgic disbelief, a low chuckle escaping his lips. He glanced toward Felix, his gaze turning marginally softer.

“After he was killed, I realized this was bullshit.” Sergei’s skin tightened, his face wrenching back to its original cold veneer. The man broke his eye contact with Wolfgang, pulling back from the bed. “At that moment, all I wanted from life was one thing. Not five, no, no, just one.” Sergei’s hand palmed the bed corner as he strode towards Wolfgang. Wolfgang’s eyes locked onto the man's wedding ring, his connection to family. Something dark and vengeful coalesced in the pit of Wolfgang's stomach.

“Revenge.” Sergei was now less than a meter away from Wolfgang, so close Wolfgang could pick out each individual link on the man’s gold chain.

Wolfgang stood up, a defensive motion, an offensive reaction. The pit in his stomach coiled tighter.

“And for that one thing…” Sergei was too close, centimeters away, the smell of his ever-present breath mints overpowering in Wolfgang’s nostrils. “I would have given all the rest.” Wolfgang stared back at his uncle, unflinching.

 Sergei reached out, his ring suddenly cold against Wolfgang’s cheek. A reminder. Wolfgang’s uncle stroked his cheek, the gold edge of his ring catching against Wolfgang’s short stubble.

“My blood is in your veins, Wolfgang.” Sergei slapped Wolfgang’s cheek - once, twice, three times. Wolfgang barely moved, his eyes refusing to leave the man’s face. “I’m sympathetic. But please, tell me you are smart enough to know that this was a mistake. Tell me that you understand that this can go no further.” Wolfgang’s eyes searched his uncle’s. Both of their faces showed no signs of yielding, no signs of submission. An impasse.  _A family trait_ , Wolfgang thought bitterly.

Sergei turned on his heel and began to walk away - but then halted mid stride, stopping abruptly. His uncle pivoted, eyes once again latching onto Wolfgang’s face. “I love you, Wolfgang.” Somehow, the man twisted the phrase into a threat. “But, please, don’t make me choose between you and my son.”

The door clicked shut, loud and final.

A muscle ticced in Wolfgang’s jaw.

_“Don’t make me choose between you and my son."_

_Don’t worry_ , Wolfgang thought, taking up his vigil at Felix’s side once more. The demon in his stomach tense impossibly hard, pushing him towards a crossroads.  _You won’t have to choose._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shout out to PreRaphaelites, who kicked my butt into gear to finish this chapter.
> 
> Every comment and kudo helps! <3


	10. Feigned Submission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of clarity and corners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Reading! <3

_Whenever I have a difficult decision to make, I come here._

_This place brings a clarity to any decision._

Abraham’s words snaked through Wolfgang’s brain, clear and cyclical. His footsteps echoed beneath him, loud in the hush of the surrounding stone memorial. Wolfgang looked to his left - he had felt a presence beside him - but saw no one.

 _Your nerves are getting the better of you_ , Wolfgang thought to himself. _Think._

He paced, and then turned around. The sun was in his path now, bright. His dark sweater felt hot against his skin, irritating. Sweat pooled in the dip of his collarbone. His neck cracked as he slowly looked over his shoulder, senses skittering an alert up his heated spine.

He wasn’t alone with his thoughts. That, Wolfgang knew. It wasn’t that these added consciousnesses flitting around him were unfriendly, but he disliked the feeling immensely. He was part of something, something he didn’t choose to become a part of.

 _Focus_ , Wolfgang thought.

Abraham’s words echoed around him once more. _Clarity._

He continued to pace, the silence of the memorial wrapping its silver strands around the cacophony of his shared brain.

Wolfgang attempted to ignore the nudging of pressures around him. He soldiered on, concentrated, but it was impossible to miss the glint of white-blond hair behind him, or the whiff of heady aftershave that breezed past a nearby column.

 _Decide_ , Wolfgang told himself. _Focus._ He still had the money from the diamonds, it was just sitting, waiting to be used… _and what about the rest of the diamonds themselves?_ The voice in Wolfgang’s head was relentless, niggling at him to choose a path.

No answers surfaced in the pool of his thoughts. Wolfgang rubbed at the back of his neck. A presence strode in front of him, garish blue flashing in the corner of his eye. Judging. Observing.

Wolfgang was not reassured.

He kept pacing.

He felt claustrophobic, caged.

Then, for a second Wolfgang saw her, a flash of sunlight, fluttering yellow and blue. Her curls brushed over his senses, tantalizing, teasing - almost touching. The phantom touch of her lips briefly emerged in the painted swirls of his brain, an idea, a comfort.

Gone.

He walked on.

**_Ist der Holocaust_ **

**_ein Irrweg_ **

**_oder eine Spiegelung_ **

**_unseres selbst?_ **

Wolfgang pauses before the memorial’s words, something heavy forming in his throat. He swallowed thickly. The words mocked him, dared him. _Are you a monster?_

“Is the Holocaust an aberration, or a reflection of who we really are?” One of the people shadowing Wolfgang finally spoke, a voice too wondrous to be somber. Wolfgang assessed the tall man in front of him. He was dark haired, attractive, with freckles speckling his pale skin. His eyes met Wolfgang’s, and Wolfgang felt his brow scrunch up, his eyebrows furrow in agitated ridges. The memorial’s walls around them bounced with sudden noise. Echoes. _Too much noise._

“Why is it so loud where you are?”

“It’s Independence Day.”

Wolfgang huffed, chuckling darkly. “What is best in life, huh?”

“I don’t understand.” The man’s eyes were innocent, hurt.

“No, you wouldn’t.” Wolfgang turned, shoulders squared, tense. He ignored the footsteps behind him, vanishing around a corner, willing the other presences out of his mind.

He had decided.

\---

“What’s up, Wolfman?” The door of the hospital room burst open, a familiar piercing voice jolting Wolfgang out of his fugue. His eyes snapped up automatically, and he jerked to his feet, hands fisting at his sides.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Steiner stood in the doorway, his bait and bodyguard close behind, hands held up in a falsely placating manner.

“Ooh,” Steiner cautioned. “Down, boy. Down.” Another bodyguard flooded the room, eyeing Wolfgang warily. Wolfgang’s eyes darted over the man’s bulk, appraising. Steiner tsked. “I heard dad came to see you. He said you had yourselves a real nice man-to-man, but, knowing you, cousin, like I do, I figured you needed a little motivational…” Steiner’s hand gestured over Felix’s prone body, sharp and cutting. “...TED-type talk?” His hand fell, and Wolfgang followed it, only to tense even more as Steiner lowered himself down onto the bed next to a defenseless Felix, an ominous stain over the white hospital sheets.

“First of all…” Steiner trailed off, his eyes trailing up Felix’s still face, palm exploring the surface of the bed. “I love Felix,” Steiner continued, gold rings flashing on his left hand. “It was really hard to watch what happened to him.” Wolfgang forced himself to stay still, emotionless. “Even though I know that he would agree when I say - ” Steiner moved, snapping in towards Felix’s face. His gold chain dangled above Felix’s features, cross glinting in the light. “ - that he did bring it upon himself.” _Stay calm_ , Wolfgang thought. _You’ve already made your decision._ Wolfgang didn’t trust himself to respond.

Steiner straightened as though Wolfgang had spoken, though, hands skyward as though conceding. “But, I am pulling for his total recovery. In fact,” Steiner paced, closer to the woman in the leopard dress, to his bodyguard, _to the people who hurt Felix_ , “I have some close friends who work here, and I asked them to keep an eye on him for me.” Steiner paused, gripping the end of the bed, wholly reminiscent of his father. He laughed carelessly. “They did scare me a little, with all the talk about the things that can go wrong when someone like Felix is trying to recover - ” Steiner rounded the bed and moved closer to Felix, closer to Wolfgang, _too close_ , and Wolfgang looked up, ready.

But Steiner turned instead, addressing his bodyguards. “Like, they had once case recently - ” Steiner shifted back, his manic eyes finding Wolfgang’s own, “ - where someone got the wrong medicine, and boom!” Steiner snapped in Wolfgang’s face, his voice dropping to a whisper. “ _Dead._ ” Steiner shifted, his eyes never leaving Wolfgang’s. “Would be some kinda… bad luck for old Felixer, after surviving all of this.”

“Can we just fast forward to the end of this shit?” Wolfgang couldn’t hold back any longer. “You get the diamonds - ”

“ - my diamonds!” Steiner’s manic energy was back, fanatic.

“ - and you give Felix and me a pass.”

“Well.” Steiner, breathing hard, leveled an accusatory finger towards Wolfgang’s chest. “I’m a forward-looking person, Wolfie. You gotta believe that. I don’t dwell on the past. I get my rocks back, and we all,” Steiner gestured to the surrounding hospital room, “Live happily ever after.”

Steiner’s words slithered through the silence, a deal and a threat, all in one. No one moved. Wolfgang, after a considerable pause, inclined his head just a little, a baring of the throat. Steiner’s eyes flitted over Wolfgang wordlessly and swept from the room, his entourage quick to follow.

Wolfgang could tell the gesture pleased Steiner, but his cousin was forgetting one crucial fact, an oversight Wolfgang was counting on to work in his favor: when backed into the corner, a lone wolf is the most dangerous of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies once more for the slow updates. I know this chapter is more rising suspense, but I'm hoping the next will more than pay off for it. Once more, I have to thank PreRaphaelites for the encouragment and nudging. Please feel free to join me on [tumblr](https://randombitsofstars.tumblr.com/) to chat about Sense8, Kalagang, or maybe to send some suggestions, questions, or feedback.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated.


	11. Lying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of smoke and deceit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy release of Season 2 everyone! Excited to be back.
> 
> Happy Reading! <3

Wolfgang placed the ice cube tray into the microwave with steady hands. They stayed steady even as he strained the diamonds from the heated water, methodically depositing the glittering rocks into the black velvet pouch. He pulled the bag’s strings tight and his watch winked from his wrist.

Wolfgang already knew the time. He had to, with a plan laid out.

\---

Most smokers told Wolfgang that smoking woke them up. Similar to caffeine, the nicotine jarred their muscles, heightened their senses.

Wolfgang smoked for other reasons. The curling fingers of the vapors massaged his muscles insistently, uncoiling them from hypervigilance. Similarly, although his pulse did not slow, a drag from a cigarette would ease Wolfgang’s nerves into a grey tide - predictable waves of stress, however unabating.

It was a vice. _But_ _there are worse in life_ , Wolfgang thought, pulling his car into the abandoned lot. He flicked the smoldering butt from his fingertips out the window. He exhaled slowly, smoke blowing across the wet surface of his lips.

His black aviators landed onto the dashboard of BMW, glove box popping open under his probing hand. Wolfgang reached into the depths of the car, fingers brushing over documents until they closed around his intended target.

 _Killing is easy… when you can feel nothing._ A vaguely British voice cut through the static of Wolfgang’s thoughts, a flash of dark features and the green of a hospital gown pulling at the edge of his vision.

Wolfgang pulled the door handle, reflection catching in his driver’s side mirror. He didn’t hesitate. _Now is not the time for introspection._

Closing the door of the BMW behind him, Wolfgang raised his leather-clad arms in what he hoped was a passable imitation of surrender. He rounded the car quickly, intercepted by one of Steiner’s lackeys. Greasy hair and a tacky gold chain consumed Wolfgang’s vision seconds before he was unceremoniously thrust onto the hood of his car.

Hot breath the consistency and smell of a five-day-old döner assaulted Wolfgang’s senses as Steiner’s man got too close, patting down his ribcage and thighs with the air of a man who was specifically ordered to not take chances.

Wolfgang willed his hands to stay flat on the hood as he heard several car doors slam behind him. He looked over his shoulder as the man continued to search his person. _One, two, three, four… fuck, fine. Five men, not counting Steiner himself._

“Search him.”

“I just did.”

“Search him again!” Steiner’s exasperation hit Wolfgang like a punch. “He’s a fucking smart guy, aren’t you, Wolfie? He knows all the tricks, so fucking smart.” It took everything Wolfgang had to bite back his retorts, namely relating his cousin’s dick size to his IQ. He exhaled. What he would do for another cigarette.

“Just found this,” Greasy Hair said, displaying the velvet bag from Wolfgang’s inner pocket. _Finally_.

“Open it. Could be wired.” Wolfgang could see Steiner raising his arms in his peripheral in tandem with his eyebrows. _It’s all a game to him_ , Wolfgang reminded himself. _Let him play it. Let him play into yours._

Wolfgang rested his open hands at his sides, turning to face the group. Everyone had backed up at Steiner’s pronouncement, wary.

“Open it!” A few tense seconds and then Greasy Hair was nodding, eyebrows lifted. Steiner rubbed his hands together, emerging from behind the door of his vehicle. “Yeah,” Steiner approached his man quickly, snatching the small bag and fixing Wolfgang with his truncated version of a smirk. Wolfgang’s cousin emptied the bag in his hand, a low whistling emanating from his mouth. “So fucking smart.” Wolfgang stepped closer, an answer to the challenge in Steiner’s gaze. “You think Felix would think you’re so fucking smart now?” Steiner held up the bag between them, his beady eyes probing into Wolfgang’s tense face. _Play the game. Hope it pays off._

“You got what you wanted.”

“I want to know something.” A hand on Wolfgang’s jacket. “How did you do it?”

 _The safe was an S &D. _Sergei’s voice dripped into Wolfgang’s thoughts, acidic, disbelieving.

“When I walked in the safe was clean. I spent two hours cutting it open. Tell me… how you did it.”

_It would be an irony of Shakespearean proportions if his son fucked his own life cracking the safe his father failed to crack, wouldn’t it?_

“I cracked it,” Wolfgang said.

“You cracked it?” Steiner’s whisper was a knife’s edge. “Like… in the movies? Listening to the tumblers with your stethoscope? You just cracked it?!”

A burst of intense pain flared in Wolfgang’s gut and he was on the cement, a grunt escaping from his throat. _Fucking play along._

“Fucking smart guy right here!” Wolfgang struggled to prop himself up on his right hand, his left clenched in the fabric of his shirt. “First guy in history to fuck the pants off an S&D safe.” Steiner’s voice sounded from above Wolfgang, a too-loud spearhead through a temporary haze. “Huh?”

Wolfgang glanced up just in time to see Steiner’s fist connect with his jaw. The hit had his neck snapping to the right, hands scrabbling beneath him for purchase.

Wolfgang was sweating underneath his jacket.

“Is that really what you expect me to believe? You think I’m that fucking stupid? Hah!” Steiner’s kick pushed Wolfgang further from the BMW, onto his back. Wolfgang’s right arm reached out in front of him, a stretch on the gritty pavement. “Oh? Is that what you think? You think I’m stupid, huh?” _Just keep talking, keep talking…_ Wolfgang levered one arm in front of another, a mockery of an army crawl.

“Hey Wolfie, where are you going? You haven’t answered my question yet.” A boot ground into the joint of Wolfgang’s knee. He thought he heard a faint click, and bit back a grimace. “Answer my fucking question.” Steiner’s arm extended towards Wolfgang’s face, gun first. From above him came the click of the safety disengaging, and then feeling of slick metal connected with Wolfgang’s temple, pushing down.

Wolfgang exhaled. “No,” he muttered, eyes flickering toward the BMW’s underbelly.

“Well, ok.” The gun vanished, a false retreat. “First smart thing you said. Now…” The metal returned, harder pressure, the edges of a headache. “Tell me the fucking truth or I’ll blow your smart-guy brains all over the fucking street.” Wolfgang risked a glance backwards. _Fuck. I need help._ He concentrated inward, thoughts receding from the sweat and gunshot residue mingling at the hollow of his skull. _This would be a good time for…_ Wolfgang felt as soon as the other presence joined him. Gritting his teeth, he looked once more at the car in front of him, the metallic tang of blood a familiar taste in his mouth. Realization hit Wolfgang suddenly, breakers against the beach.

He gazed back at Steiner once more, time slow, heavy.

And then a second perspective. Steiner standing over his body, gun in hand, teeth bared. The bodyguards behind them both, watching. And then, next to where Wolfgang stood, off to the side -

They stared at each other. Dark stubble, a hint of a pout. Defined cheekbones. An easily recognizable scent - _alcohol._ Smooth skin, soft, long lashes. Even as Wolfgang stood at the precipice of watching his own demise, his observational skills couldn’t deny his fellow spectator was attractive. Distractingly so. _A distraction…_

“You knew everything.” An assured whisper, directed solely towards him. “You knew he would hit you, you knew you would fall to the ground. But he kicked you and drove you away from the gun. You were really close.”

“All I needed was a little space.” Wolfgang’s hand motioned forward, head shaking minutely, exasperated. He could feel the man’s eyes on him, but refused to turn.

“Why don’t you just,” the man leaned closer, “tell him something he wants to hear? Tell him… tell him… I don’t know, just a little lie that will make him relax and then we -”

 _We_ , Wolfgang thought.

“ - and then we’ll figure it out.” The man was nodding now, enthused by his own idea.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” Most people would be annoyed, but not this man. He was understanding - _perceptive_ , Wolfgang thought. _Perceptive._

Wolfgang couldn’t look at him. “He reminds me of my father.”

“Just a little lie.” Wolfgang shook his head. He couldn’t. _I can’t._

“Ok. May I?” He startled, looking at the man and then the frozen scene in front of them. “Do you mind?” His lips parted in incomprehension.

The stranger waggled a finger, patting Wolfgang’s chest consolingly.

Time restarted.

“Did you hear me?!” Steiner again. “Tell me the fucking truth.” Wolfgang’s cousin was panting now, in anger. “Tell me!” The gun came down, and the man-who-was-and-was-not-Wolfgang grunted, spitting blood. His left arm rose defensively, head turning away.

Wolfgang longed to look back, every instinct screaming at him. _No weakness._

“It was Felix.” The words spilled from Wolfgang, foreign, smooth. “It was Felix.” Blood swept away from his upper lip, Steiner’s taut gaze resting squarely on him. “He found out… the Indian liked boys. Ran into him at a club, fed him some drinks.” Steiner began to chuckle. Wolfgang refused to think. “Felix got the combination from him.”

“I knew it! I fucking knew it! Fucking Felix!” Steiner turned away, pacing excitedly. Steiner pressed his gun away, to a man in a white tank top. “I bet he sucked his cock!” Steiner’s words faded from Wolfgang’s attention, gaze drifting back towards the BMW. “There had to be some cock-sucking involved. He sucked his cock, didn’t he?” Steiner was close once more, demanding.

Wolfgang felt barbs rise in his throat.

Someone else pushed them back down.

“He did what he had to do.”

“Ooh,” Steiner crowed. “Cock-sucking Felix!” Steiner laughed, back turned from Wolfgang, jewelry bag unearthed from his pockets. “Look. Look at this. Would any of you suck cock for this?” Wolfgang crawled closer, closer -

“Sure,” White Tank Top replied.

“That’s why you and cock-sucking Felix and Wolfie are all fucking idiots, and I’m the only one with some fucking brains around here!”

Wolfgang lunged, someone else’s knees scraping the pavement with his, someone else’s fingers closing around the grip of his gun just as his did -

But it was solely Wolfgang’s arm brandishing the weapon, and then his aim that followed, hitting one man in the heart, another in the chest, a riot of bullets, a spray -

\-  and then Wolfgang’s legs rolled over the hood of his BMW, more bullets flying, crossing, catching another one of Steiner’s men in the chest, who crumpled, falling -

Bullets pinged off the metal of the BMW’s hood as Wolfie crouched behind the frame. His grip on his firearm was solid as he dived out from the shelter of the car, ears ringing as the shots popped around him, another man down, Steiner’s rear tires spinning, reversing -

_Escaping._

Wolfgang tucked his pistol into his waistband even as Steiner hurled insults from the car, spit flying from his mouth.

Wolfgang opened up the trunk of the BMW smoothly, hands reaching inside, closing around dark metal, shouldering the heavy weapon. He exhaled, aiming through the sights, finger closing around the trigger of the rocket launcher -

“FUCK!”

The explosion was more satisfying than Wolfgang anticipated.

_He can’t hurt Felix anymore._

Wolfgang turned, returning the weapon to the trunk. “Fucking hell!” The man-who-was-not-Wolfgang cheered, pumping his fist ecstatically. “That’s what I’m talking about!” Wolfgang was suddenly assailed by aftershave and sweat, corded arms closing around him. “Fucking hell, man.” The man’s face was comically contorted, arms wild, gesturing. “What the fuck is that?”

Wolfgang leaned forward, smiling, unable to hold back a matching grin. He clasped the man’s hand in a real handshake, expression turning serious. “Thank you.”

The man’s smile slipped away, tongue darting out to wet full lips. “Lying is easy. It’s what I do.”

Wolfgang nodded, emotional feedback and memories cascading over him in torrents. _He needs help._ “Sometimes… you make a mistake. You’ve got two choices: you live with it, or you fix it.”

Wolfgang slide into the driver’s seat of the ravaged BMW, sparing one last look at his savior behind him. He realized he liked more than one of the people currently sharing his brain. He looked towards the glove box, towards his packet of cigarettes. They would relax his muscles, his mind.

But for once -

_I don’t need it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be honest, I'm mostly glad Steiner is dead now so I can stop typing 'fuck'. Honestly, is that all he said?
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated my darlings. In fact, one on my fanfiction account inspired me to finish this chapter up. You just never know what power your words carry. After all, lying (to me) is easy... ;)


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